


Stay With Me

by Modestolove128898



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friendship, History, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26686600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Modestolove128898/pseuds/Modestolove128898
Summary: Juice flees Charming to the arms of the only person who ever truly understood him. Eventual smut.
Relationships: Juice Ortiz/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I affiliated with the production/creators of the Sons of Anarchy franchise. Just merely a fan who thought Juice deserved better.

She hadn’t seen him in years.

So it was a little unnerving to see him standing in front of her apartment without so much as a call to warn her. He looked like shit. His head and face were covered in stubble, his eyes screamed sleep-deprived and his shoulders looked so defeated, it was as if a physical weight was pressing down on him.

“Beck,” he managed, eyes glassy.

Taking a step back, she opened the door further. “Come in.”

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Rebekah watched him over her mug as she slowly sipped her tea. It had been almost an hour since she had invited him in and he had yet to say anything. His own drink remained untouched next to an equally ignored plate of leftover lasagna as he focused his eyes on the dining table.

“It’s gonna get cold if you don’t drink it,” she told him.

Still not saying anything, Juice reached for the tea, taking a small, unenthused sip.

“You gonna tell me what you’re doin’ here, kid?”

He gave a sad chuckle, the right corner of his lips pulling up ever so slightly. “Kid. I never understood why you felt the need to call me that. I’m older than you.”

“I call you that because despite being older than me, you normally have a much more jovial demeanor.”

“Yeah. I guess I did the last time you saw me.”

“What’s going on, Juan Carlos? Why come here? Why come to me after all this time? Are you running from something? Someone?”

“Which question do you want me to answer first?” He cleared his throat when she fixed him with a look. Running a finger over the handle of his mug he looked back down at the table. “I’m running from several someone’s who are a part of something I am no longer a part of. I came to you because I didn’t know where else to go and… I honestly haven’t been doing so great. I OD’d not too long ago. And… I don’t think it was entirely an accident when I did it.”

“You’re using?” There was no judgment in her voice, rather a detachment that hinted she was trying to put the pieces together. Understand.

“No,” he shook his head. “Not since then. It’s been a couple of months.”

She nodded. “You wanna tell me why you’re running from them?”

“I’ve made some mistakes.”

“What kind of mistakes would make you have to go on the run?”

“The ones that get people killed,” he deadpanned. “I betrayed the guys who were supposed to be my brothers. They took me in, gave me a home. And I stabbed them in the back. Then I saw -”

“You saw what?” Rebekah encouraged him when he struggled to continue. When she saw that his mouth was moving and no words were coming out, she waved it off. “You know what? It doesn’t matter right now. You need a bath. And sleep by the looks of it.”

“I don’t need a bath,” he grumbled. “It’s like sitting in your own filth.”

“Fine. You’ll shower. You need to decompress. We can talk about it more in the morning. Finish your food.”

Standing, she finished her cup before cleaning it off and placing it on the dishrack. Walking into her room, she rustled through her dresser until she finally found what she was looking for. Grabbing the bundles of fabric in her hands, she stopped by the linen closet for a towel and set everything on the bathroom counter. Hearing the clinking of dishes, she went back to the kitchen to find him standing in front of the sink, washing his plate. 

“Don’t worry about that. I'll get it in the morning.”

“I stopped by unannounced,” he shrugged. “The least I can do is clean up after myself. You don’t have to baby me.”

Crossing her arms, Beck shifted her weight to one leg. “Be honest, Ortiz; you came to me because you knew I would baby you.”

His shoulders slumped. Blowing out a breath, he put the plate down and turned off the faucet and nodded. “I came to you because… You’re nice, Beck. You always looked out for me. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Biting her lip, she decided to ignore the questions that were popping up in her mind. She had so much she wanted to ask him. So many things she wanted to say. Instead, she dropped her arms and took the three steps she needed to reach him. Taking his hand in hers, she led him up the stairs.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

He’d finished cleaning himself a while ago. Now he just stood under the water, the cold stream falling over his body and giving him a slight headache. Beck had guided him into the bathroom, telling him to shout if he needed her, before closing the door.

He’d turned on the shower, scrubbing himself with her soap and using it to clean the small amount of hair that was growing on his head. It was strange. Normally, he liked to listen to music when he showered. But ever since he went into hiding, he’d gotten used to keeping his ears perked for voices and bikes. He kept trying to tell himself that he was safe where he was. That the club wouldn’t come looking for him here.  
Not once in the whole time he knew them, had he mentioned Rebekah or his time in Chicago.

As far as they were concerned, he’d probably crossed the border or headed back to Queens. Or he was dead, finally having managed to kill himself.

Deciding to get out, Juice stepped out of the shower and toweled off. Once he was sure he was thoroughly dried, he reached for the clothes Beck had laid out for him, a small smile finding his lips when he picked up the garments.

Opening the door, he was surprised to find her sitting on the steps, leaning against the half-wall that separated the two levels of the apartment. 

“You kept my boxers?” he teased, announcing himself.

“They make good sleep shorts,” she offered, standing up and crossing her arms in front of her.

“And my sweatshirt?”

“You know I’m always cold.”

That much was true. “You didn’t have to wait up for me.”

She shrugged. “You were in there a while. I wanted to make sure you were alright. That, and I wasn’t sure if you were going to bolt or not.”

“Fair enough.” He took the time to look at her - really look at her - for the first time since his unexpected arrival.

She looked exhausted, her brown eyes looking like they hadn’t seen a good night’s sleep in a while. Her typically wavy hair was pulled up in a bun, revealing that the majority of it was shaved off. It would seem the only thing that hadn’t changed in the near-decade since he’d seen her was her height. She was still, very very short.

“Are you ready for bed?” she asked, cutting his observations short. “Or do you need more chamomile?”

“I’m tired,” he shook his head. “Can I borrow a blanket?”

“The couch isn’t comfortable,” she told him. “You can bunk with me.”

“What, like in your bed?”

“Don’t be such a prude, Juan Carlos. We used to share a bed all the time when we were little.”

“One of us is still little,” he quipped.

“Good to see you still have your humor,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m serious though. I bought that couch specifically so that my parents wouldn’t stay long when they came to visit. The bed is much comfier.”

“Fine,” he ceded. “Just don’t put those freezing feet on me.”

It was her turn to smirk. “I’ll try my best. As long as you don’t choke me out trying to spoon.”

“It was one time.”

“And I’ll never forget it,” she teased. “Come on.”

She took his hand again, guiding him maybe ten feet away to the bedroom. It was almost as if intertwining their fingers assured her that he was actually there. That he was real. Toeing off her slippers, she pulled back the black comforter before slipping underneath the blankets.

“A little cuddling won’t kill you,” she promised. “Scouts honor.”

“You were only in scouts for like a week,” he reminded her, sliding into the bed beside her nonetheless. 

It shouldn’t have been as familiar as it was for him to sneak his arm under the crook of her neck and place the other around her middle as he dragged her closer to him. He shivered when she brought her feet against his shins, her toes still freezing despite the socks she wore.

Kissing her hair, he inhaled the scent of her shampoo. That seemed to be another thing that hadn’t changed. He took a small bit of comfort in the once familiar hint of coconut. 

“Goodnight, Beck.”

“G’night.”

He let the feel and smell of her put him to sleep.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Juice was usually one to wake early. He had a habit of rising before his alarm. But, somehow, he had managed to sleep in - something that was increasingly rare these days. Opening his eyes, he ran his hand over where Beck had slept, the cold sheets telling him she had been gone for a while. Sitting up, he scooted out of bed, rubbing his eyes and stretching his back. 

Part of him had been convinced that last night had been a dream. 

Standing up, he made his way down the stairs, lured by the smell of vanilla. Meandering into the kitchen, he was greeted by the sight of Rebekah rinsing off a handful of blueberries before dropping them into a batter on the stovetop. He gave the room a sniff the delicious aroma filling his nose. 

"Are those your oatmeal pancakes?" he asked, practically drooling. 

"They might be," she teased. "Take a seat. They're almost done." 

"Need me to do anything?"

"No, I've got it. Sit."

He plopped into a chair obediently, continuing to watch her. While her hair was still up, she had gotten dressed. She'd never been one to stay in her pajamas long. He tried to keep himself from eyeing her ass in the black jeans she had painted on, but old habits did die hard, he supposed. 

"I can feel you staring, Ortiz."

Turning off the stove, she plated the last pancake and placed them in the middle of the table. "Want something to drink?"

He smiled, reaching for the pancakes. "You got any O.J. in the fridge?"

"Coming right up." 

A few seconds later, she placed a glass in front of him and took her seat. She watched as he chewed, much more enthusiastic than the previous night. It eased some of her worries about him. 

She picked the pancakes because they used to be his favorite. She figured she could ease him into talking if he had a little comfort food in him. 

"Where have been, JC?"

His chewing slowed at the use of his childhood nickname, and he swallowed. "California. I was in an M.C. and some shit went down. I can’t tell you everything. Not yet a least. Talking is kind of what got my ass in trouble.”

“I didn’t hear a bike when you pulled up last night. Where’d you par?”

He scratched the back of his head. “I kind of hitchhiked here."

"Jesus Christ. Are you trying to get killed? 'Cause that's how you get killed."

"I didn't have a choice. I needed to get out of town fast and I didn't want them to be able to track me. I also didn’t want to steal someone’s car."

"How did you find me?" He raised a brow that let her know it wasn't exactly legal and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. Right. I forgot who I’m talking to.”

“Go ahead,” he encouraged.

“Huh?”

He took a sip of his orange juice. “I can see it in your face. You want to ask me something that’s going to make me uncomfortable. Just rip the band-aid off already.”

“Fine,” she exhaled. “Um… Last night, you said people got killed because of some mistakes that you made. Did you kill them?”

He sat in silence for a moment, his fork suspended in the air. “You want the truth?”

“When have I ever asked you to lie to me?”

"Right. That was a stupid question." He set his fork down and straightened his back, forcing himself to look her in the eye. "I did. Not because I wanted to. One was an accident. The other…"

"The other?"

"I had to prove my loyalty. Prove how much I wanted to stay with them, keep my brothers. She… I see them sometimes. When I’m sleeping." His jaw clenched, the same way it had when he was upset as a kid.

"You don't have to tell me," Beck whispered, reaching across the table and placing a hand over his. "Not now. But I'm here when you're ready to."

"You're not gonna call the cops?"

Her heart tightened when she saw that his eyes were watery. She shook her head. "You're not a monster Juan Carlos. That much I know."

He snatched his hand away as if she had burned him. "How do you know I'm not?"

"Because a monster wouldn't feel guilty. You did bad things. Yes. But you know they were bad and it's obvious you regret it… That's why you tried to kill yourself."

He nodded although it wasn't a question. 

She leaned onto the table, bringing her hands to rest on the glass of water she had poured for herself. 

"You don't do well on your own," she told him. "You never have. And I can't let you go now, knowing that you're not alright and you've already tried to kill yourself once that I know of. I want you to stay here. With me."

"Why?"

"Because you were there for me when the tables were reversed. Because I’ve known you almost my whole life and I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you and I did nothing to help. But mainly because I've missed you. You can stay however long you like. And I mean that."

“Thank you.”

“Just don’t flush my underwear down the toilet,” she teased. “Eat up.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juice and Beck take some time to catch up.

Juice quickly figured out that Beck was very particular about her workspace. While she had allowed him into the small office that doubled as her library, she’d made it clear that, if he moved something, it had to go back in the exact spot it had come from. Not that he had room to talk. His dorm back at the clubhouse had been organized to the letter. Even his underwear had to be folded a certain way.

He knew Rebekah’s system was more for ease of finding things rather than something that was more compulsive, like his. 

In the last week, since he’d arrived in Chicago, he’d rearranged and faced her canned goods twice. He’d scrubbed the sink until his arm was tired and had been about to vacuum the carpet before she’d all but dragged him to her office, telling him to read something.

He’d sat in the cozy recliner in the corner while she worked a whole hour before he decided it was too much for him. Every few seconds he was fidgeting in his seat or making some kind of sound. Releasing a sigh of her own, Beck logged off her computer and swiveled in her desk chair to stare at him.

“We’re going for a walk. Come on,” she urged when he didn’t move. “It’ll do you some good to stretch your legs.

“I can’t leave.”

“You can,” she corrected him. “No one knows you here and you’re restless. You’ve got one sigh left before I shove a sock in your mouth.”

“Why you gotta be like that?”

“You can’t stay cooped up.”

He knew she was right. The last couple of months he’d spent in Wendy’s apartment had only proven to make him more paranoid.

“If they see me with you -”

“Juan Carlos,” she chastised. “You told me yourself you never even mentioned my existence to them. I’ll be fine. They aren’t even going to know to look for me.”

“What if they find me?”

“You ditched your phone and your laptop - which I still can’t believe, by the way. Unless you’ve been posting selfies, those sons of bitches will be none the wiser. Now, put on a hoodie. It’s supposed to be a little chilly.”

Standing, she took the book in hands and placed it back on the shelf before making her way out of the room.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

“Holy shit,” he griped, using his free hand to pull his hood over his head to cover his ears. “A little chilly? What’s the temperature?”

Beck rolled her eyes as he slipped their entwined hands into his hoodie pocket. “Those California temperatures severely lowered your tolerance didn’t they?”

“Dude, it’s like twenty degrees out.”

“First of all, it’s like fifty-five.”

“No wonder you’re always cold.”

“I’m cold because I’m iron deficient.”

“A likely story.”

“You think I keep all that spinach in my apartment because I like it?”

Despite the chill, Juice could admit that being out and about did make him feel a little better. He felt like the constant crowd of people helped them blend in, giving him a sense of anonymity. But it also made him antsy.

“Tell you what,” she offered. “Since you came out with me and faced the tundra-like weather, why don’t we stop for some hot cocoa. Giana’s is still open.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Seriously? That place is still open and this is the first time you’re offering me cocoa?”

She rolled her eyes for the millionth time before smiling and pulling him along. “Come on.”

“You know your eyes are going to fall out if you keep doing that.”  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

He sat beside her on the barstools, looking out the window as they sipped on their hot chocolates.

“I can’t believe how little this place has changed,” he approved.

Swinging her legs from her perch, Beck nodded. “It’s kind of nice, isn’t it? I mean change isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it’s nice that some things stay the same.”

“It’s comforting. Now you on the other hand…”

“What about me?”

“Surely some things have changed since we last saw each other,” he insisted, taking a moment to enjoy his drink. “Aside from your hair, I mean. What have you been up to the last nine years?”

“Ah. I love small talk,” she chuckled. “Well, I have been running my blog for about five years now. I write erotica under a false name because my mother would have a heart attack. I just started working from home doing both full-time probably around six months or so. I had a roommate for a little over a year. I don’t, now. Obviously.”

“Roommate?” he smirked. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“Shut up. Okay, he was a boyfriend and he turned out to be a douche.”  
She scoffed when he glared at the thought, whipped cream sticking on his nose. Giving him a dimpled smile, she thumbed it away with a chuckle. 

"What's that face for?"

Shoulders hunched, Juice looked back out the window, ignoring her question. He pouted into his mug as he watched people walk by, not truly seeing them. Beck couldn't help but smirk because she knew what his expression meant. She’d seen it once or twice in her life. 

"There’s nothing to be jealous about, JC. I highly doubt you've been celibate this whole time." Leaning an elbow on the bar, she rested her chin her hand as she grinned at him.

"I am not jealous."

"Really?" she quipped, a brow raised. "'Cause that's the same look you gave Tyler Giorgi when he asked me to go to junior prom."

"That's because Tyler Giorgi was a dick and you deserved better."

"Tyler was nice. You just didn't like anyone I dated."

"Yeah, because you have terrible taste in men."

"I dated you," she reminded him. 

"Briefly. And I rest my case."

"Hey." She reached for his chin, forcing him to look at her. "You're a great guy. Besides, I'm sure you've been with lots of girls over the past few years."

"None of them were anything real. You lived with this guy. That's pretty serious."

"I guess. It was only because his lease was up on his place if it makes you feel any better. Like I said he was a douche. It was over quickly."

"Why? Did he rearrange your desk when you weren't looking?"

"More like, I found him screwing my friend in our bed. Now they have a kid together and I have the bed to myself. Well, I did at least."

A look of guilt crossed his features as she let his chin go. "I won't be much longer, Beck. I promise."

"I don't want you to leave," she shook her head. "I like having you around again. It kind of reminds me of when we first moved out here. We both just needed out of the apartment today."

He reached for her hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. "Thank you."

"You're my best friend, JC. I'd do anything for you."

He smiled. "In that case, you think maybe, tonight we could just watch a movie? Like we used to?"

"Only if we can have popcorn."

"Oh, definitely. Popcorn is essential."  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

Neither of them spoke as they sat on the living room floor snuggled up in blankets as the movie played on the television. They didn’t comment on the proximity in which they sat or the fact that Juice was running his fingers through her hair. No one said anything about the fact that her head was on his chest while he leaned back.

They just allowed themselves to simply be. It was the way their relationship had always been. The years of absence hadn’t changed that. Somehow, they were able to slip back into those once-comfortable habits and find peace in them. What should have felt strange and strained was familiar - downright lovely if Juice was being honest.

He hadn’t felt this safe or secure in a long time. He knew he would have to come clean about everything he had done eventually. For now, he would just enjoy the solitude, the movie, and his best friend in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that these chapters are so short. There are longer ones coming. I promise!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit from the past brings out the protective side of Juan Carlos.

A week later, she convinced him to go out again.

They stood in the grocery store, looking over the list they had compiled. While they both liked to maintain a particularly healthy diet, they allowed themselves a little junk food now and again. So, there they were, Juice leaned against the handlebar of the cart and Beck with a hand on her hip as they casually dissected the pros and cons of Oreos versus Hot Cheetos.

“Why don’t we just get both?” she suggested, dumping both into the cart. “Oreos for you, Cheetos for me.” 

“You little rebel,” he teased, tugging a strand of her hair.

“You’re just lucky that dopey little grin of yours is endearing,” she shook her head, pretending the tug on her scalp didn’t do something for her.

“Rebekah?”

Juice’s said grin disappeared the moment the other man approached them. His shaggy blond hair falling into his eyes as he stopped in front of them. A small smirk played on his cleanshaven face. The asshole just downright stared at her, not even acknowledging the biker’s existence.

Straightening up, he Juice stood himself to his full height, hands clenched around the cart.

“Chris,” Beck breathed, taking a not-so-subtle step closer to the biker.

“How ya been?”

“Good. Really good…” She looked between the two men. “Uh… This is JC. JC, this is Christopher.”

“You must be the douchebag ex-boyfriend,” Juice figured.

“Juan C-”

“I’m sorry,” Chris chuckled. “You are?”

“Her fiancé.” Pulling her closer, he slipped his hand in her back pocket in an effort to tell the other man to back off.

“Seriously?” The blond looked at his former girlfriend. “You’re seriously marrying some bitch who can’t even grow a goatee properly, Becky?”

“Chris, just stop.”

“Yeah, Chris,” Juice mocked. “Before you get hurt.”

“JC,” Beck tried, holding onto his arm as he took a step in front of her. “Can we just go home? Baby?”

The term of endearment caused Juice’s heart to seize only because she hadn’t called him that since they were seventeen.

“There you are,” a feminine voice came as a redhead pushing a cart came over to them. “Rebekah. Hi.”

The woman looked surprised to see them, blue eyes darting back and forth between the two of them before landing on Chris. It was then that Juice noticed the lightly-snoring toddler in the cart.

“Cute kid,” Juice noted. “You should probably leave before he wakes up, right?”

“Beck -”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you, Lori,” Beck shook her head. “Come on, JC. Let’s just finish up so we can go home.”

Sliding her hand down his forearm, she laced her fingers with his as he pushed their shopping cart in the opposite direction with his free hand. She tried to find comfort in the way rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand, but found it hard to do so when she could feel him vibrating with anger.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

She hadn’t come downstairs since they had put the groceries away. She’d said she was going to change and then start dinner, but it had been an hour. Taking the steps two at a time, Juice made his way up the stairs only to find the bedroom door closed.

“I’m coming in,” he announced, giving a couple of light knocks before opening the door. His eyes softened when he saw her curled into herself in the middle of the bed.

Stepping closer he saw her eyes were closed, her breathing even. He could see the tracks from the tears that must’ve run across her nose before falling onto the pillow. She was wearing his shirt, the cuffs of the sleeves bunched around her fingers.

Unbuckling his belt, he undid his jeans allowing the denim to slide to the carpet before joining her on the bed. He pulled her toward him, his nose resting in her hair and his feet coming to rest under hers.

The next time he saw that son of a bitch, he was going to kill him.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

A couple of days passed before he allowed himself to bring it up. He’d started his morning with a cold shower only to find her in the office after he’d dried off. She was sitting at her computer typing away and he was reading a book in the recliner. Or at least he was pretending to read. In actuality, watching her work. 

Every so often she would delete what she had typed before pushing her hair out of her face. He’d enjoyed watching her in the last few weeks. The way some of her old childhood ticks and habits stuck with her amused him. The way she could only use a pen with the cap attached to the other end, how she constantly had a cup of tea near her, music playing lowly in the background as she worked - they were all things he found adorable.

He loved the way her back would straighten when she got an idea. He adored that she had a favorite candle that was reserved specifically for writing. It was a different one altogether if she was typing on a sex scene.

He’d noticed her thighs press together every time she’d gotten worked up over what she had written. He’d tried to sneak a peek when she went to the bathroom, but there wasn’t time to bypass her password. She never wore shoes when she was in the house, but she made sure to dress up one the days she was working.

Today, she was in a white sundress with a matching sweater pulled over the top, her hair parted down the middle, and hiding the shaved sides. A thick pair of socks covered her feet as they dangled from her computer chair.

When she began stretched her neck, he took that as his opportunity to finally speak. Putting his book down, he walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders and began to rub.

“Why don’t you take a break?”

She moaned as she leaned into his touch, the sound causing his dick to push against his zipper. “I’m almost finished for the day. I promise.”

“Okay,” he ceded, pressing his thumbs to the base of her neck. “Can I ask you something then?

“As long as you keep rubbing,” she chuckled.

“Chris.” He soothed her muscles when she tensed under his fingers. “Do you want me to do something about him? ‘Cause I will. I’ve got no qualms about it.”

“No, Juan Carlos.”

“Are you sure? I mean I could tell seeing him with her bothered you.”

“Seeing Lori bothered me more,” she admitted. “She was my best friend after you left. Chris flat out told me they’d been sleeping together for a while. She tried to lie about it. That stung worse than anything,”

“You want me to do something about her?”

“No!” Leaning forward she spun her chair to look up at him. “Chris is a cop. You can’t go messing with them. It’ll put you on his radar, okay. I don’t want that. Besides, they have a kid. Anything you do to them, you do to him and he didn’t do anything to deserve that.”

“But-”

“No buts. Anything you’re thinking of doing, I’ve thought over ten a million times already. They aren’t worth it JC. But thank you.”

“For what? I can’t even do anything to help you.”

“I think pretending to be my fiancé is something. And thank you for wanting to help me. You’ve been protecting me since I was seven.”

“Well, Sister Anne was way out of line,” he mused as he recalled the day they met each other.

“We’re probably the only second-graders in the school’s history to get detention.”

“To be fair, that one wasn’t my fault,” he reminded her. “We probably just would have missed recess if you hadn’t bitten her.”

Beck rolled her eyes. “The bitch had it coming. She didn’t have to pinch your ear the way she did.”

“You’ve done that to me.” Juice raised his hands in mock surrender when she raised a brow at him. “I think I’m going to make some lunch. You hungry?”

“I think I’ve mustered up an appetite.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm sorry this chapter is so short. The next one is longer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juice and Beck each try to relieve the respective sexual frustrations. (In other words, the first half of this is nothing but smut because I need prayer).  
> An unexpected visitor intrudes on their peace, leading to new opportunities.

Juice woke with a dull ache between his legs and Beck’s ass pressed against him. It wasn’t the first time he’d started his morning with a boner since he’d arrived. But it was the first time since he’d found himself in Chicago a little over a month ago, that he decided to do something about it.

He could’ve sworn his balls clenched when she let out a breathy mumble in her sleep. It had been what had roused him in the first place. The sound she had made sounded suspiciously like his name. Staring at her for a moment longer, he wondered what it would feel like to bury himself inside of her and wake her up. Not entirely shaking the thought from his mind, he carefully peeled himself away from her and made his way into the bathroom.

He turned on the shower, quickly stripping off his briefs and jumping under the stream. Hand on his dick, he began to pump himself, imagining that whimper coming through her lips had been because of him.

“Fuck,” he gasped, jerking himself faster.

Damn, he wanted her lips on him. He tried to imagine what they would feel like. Nice and soft, not too full, not too thin. Just enough to sheath his length as her tongue swirled around his head. He could practically feel her hand cupping his balls. He wondered just how deep she could take him into her throat before it became too much for her. He knew it wouldn’t have been long before he would’ve snatched her up, growing irritated at her teasing. He could see himself bending her over and fucking the shit out of her from behind.

They only dated for a couple of months in high school before they’d split up. He’d never gotten the opportunity to feel her walls tighten around him. Back then, he probably would have exploded within seconds, embarrassing them both.

But they were adults now. He had plenty of experience. He could make her feel good. He wanted her on his cock, his fingers, his tongue - whichever way he could get her.

He bit his lower lip to keep quiet, praying she wouldn’t wake up to the sound of him coming as his moans echoed off the bathroom tile. But his release never came.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Beck opened her eyes the moment she heard the shower going. She’d felt him fidget when she had whispered his name before. For a moment, she was positive she had been caught.

JC had always been an early riser, but lately, he had been sleeping rather deeply. Of course, the one moment she’d chosen to get herself off in her bed, he’d be up bright and early. She’d frozen, her ass pressed against his morning wood as she tried not to blush, keeping her hand squeezed between her legs.

Once she was sure she was alone for a couple of minutes, she rolled onto her back and got back to work, rubbing her index and middle fingers against her clit.

“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes screwing shut. She could’ve sworn she’d heard a moan drift in from the bathroom. The sound made her wetter. “Fuck.”

Her other hand gripped his pillow as she brought it to cover her face and inhaled his scent. 

She visualized him, his head between her thighs as she fought to grip the one inch of hair he’d managed to grow in the last couple of months. Her breathing and fingers increased in speed at the thought of his tongue flattening against her core, the speed added pressure driving her mad.

“Juan Carlos,” she whimpered, her knees coming up against her body as her thighs clenched together and she came over her fingertips. Reaching her finger between her lips, she used the moment of oral fixation to quiet her moans. 

That’s when she realized the water had stopped running.

Juice stood there, as naked as the day he was born, water running down his chest and his purple-headed cock staring right at her.

“Jesus,” he groaned, brown eyes darkening.

She should have been humiliated. Or at least a little embarrassed. Instead, the flush to her cheeks was because her fingers were still working against her bundle. Only now, she was more turned on. She probably should have pulled the covers higher, wrapped herself up, and left the room.

Instead, she could only look at him and whisper, “Fuck me.”

It was the slight beg - the smallest hint of desperation in her voice that pushed him over the edge. 

He covered the distance in what felt like a mere three steps, yanking the covers bag and grabbing her ankle to drag her to the edge of the mattress. Immediately, he spread her thighs, dropping to his knees and began to feast upon her.

Her back arched up from the bed as he finished her orgasm off. He released a growl, the sound vibrating against her clit before he began to suck on the nub. She was so damn wet.

She tightened around him when he inserted a finger inside of her. “Oh, fuck,” she squeaked. “JC. Please. Take your time later.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. Standing again, he directed her to move back up the bed as he followed her on his hands and knees before coming to stop between her thighs. Gripping one of her calves, he opened her wider before slowly pushing himself inside of her.

“I’m not going to last long,” he warned her.

“I don’t care,” she shook her head. “Just get inside me. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smirked as he bottomed out, enjoying the sharp gasp she let out. “Shit don’t tighten like that.”

She didn’t listen though. Instead, she arched upward to meet his thrusts. Using her hands to sit herself up, she dragged his face to her, sealing their lips together as she let out another cry. He bit her lower lip, reaching a hand around her to pull her closer as he cock slid through her faster and faster.

They both knew this was going to be quick and dirty. Neither of them cared. His other hand went between them, searching for her clit and giving the bundle a pinch.

“Right there,” she whispered, her breath catching.

“There?”

“Yes. Jesus. Fuck!”

She fell back down and he let her, balancing over her as his hand continued to work as he pounded harder into her.

“Baby, I’m gonna come.”

“Do it, JC. Come for me.”

He didn’t have the forethought to pull out. Instead, he allowed the dam to burst inside of her, coating her walls as he continued to play with her clit. He was still draining himself when she came around his dick, a small stream of his name and yeses falling from her lips. Collapsing on top of her, he moaned and kissed her neck. Then her cheek and her lips before grabbing her and rolling over to keep himself inside of her as he placed her on top of him.

She smiled at the feel of his hard chest as he softened inside of her, allowing the feeling of him tracing his fingers down his spine to lull her back to sleep.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

Juice wasn’t sure what had woken him up first: the door or Beck’s cell ringing. Since the phone went to voicemail before he could answer it, he settled for slipping on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Grabbing his gun from the nightstand, he jogged down the stairs and peered through the peephole.

“Shit,” he muttered, clicking the safety back on and quickly placing the forty-five in his waistband before opening the door. 

Standing in front of him was Beck’s mother.

“Mrs. Payne,” he greeted, giving his best smile. “It’s been a while.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Juan Carlos… Yes, it certainly has been.” Brushing past him, she stepped into the apartment without so much as a hello. “Rebekah didn’t say that you were staying here.”

“Oh, well I got in last night,” he lied. “It was kind of a surprise.”

“I see. Is my daughter home?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s -”

“JC, who was at the door?” Beck’s voice came as she made her way down the stairs.

Juice’s eyes bugged out of his head at the sight of her in a tank top and boxers. If her mother hadn’t been standing next to him, he would have taken her for round two right then and there. He watched as recognition hit her, her orbs widening at the sight before her.

“Mama,” she smiled, her voice rising in pitch. Coming down the last of the steps she hugged the older woman before looking between the two. “When did you get in?”

“Oh, early this morning. I didn’t want to wake you, so I thought I’d come by this afternoon. I guess you were still sleeping.”

The disapproval was apparent in her voice.

“Is Dad here too?”

"No, your father is at a conference for the week." Looking around the living room, her eyes scanned her surroundings. "I was thinking maybe we could get some lunch. Just the two of us. My treat."

"Mama, you don't have to do that," Beck insisted. "Besides -"

"No," she interrupted. "I don't get to see you very often. Plus I need to talk to you about something… Private."

"Why don't we stay here and talk?" Beck offered. "Just let me shower real quick and I'll make us something."

"I wouldn't want Juan Carlos to feel like he had to make himself scarce, dear."

"Oh, it's fine, Vera" the man insisted. "I was just going to head out for a bit anyway. You know, check out some of the old spots. Do a little sightseeing."

Juice could take the hint. She didn't like him. She hadn't since they'd been busted for making out in the locker rooms at St. Francis Prep when they were juniors. Her mother had quickly squashed that relationship. Needless to say, he wasn't her biggest fan either. 

"Very well," Vera sneered. "I'll just have a seat on the couch. Don’t take too long, Rebekah."

"Yes, Mama. Make yourself comfortable." 

Scurrying up the stairs, Juice and Beck closed the bedroom door behind them. The woman began to strip as he watched, his jaw tightening. 

"Don’t even think about it," she warned. “My mother's downstairs and I smell like sex. I need to shower."

"Hey, you're the one who told me to -" 

She covered his mouth, smiling when he kissed her palm. "I know, baby. I know. We’ll talk about it when she's gone. She probably won't be here for more than two hours. Try not to find any trouble between now and then."

He linked his fingers with hers and kissed her. "Okay," he said between pecking her lips. "I'll be good."

"You better," she teased. "Where are you gonna go?" 

"I'll probably just head to the library or something." 

"Want me to pick you up when she's gone? You can ride bitch on my bike."

"Your bike doesn’t have a motor. No way can it handle two of us one there. Not even if I sit on the handlebars."

“Still, I feel bad that she’s making you uncomfortable enough to leave. It’s supposed to snow tonight. I don’t want you to be stuck with no way to get home.”

"Don’t worry about it.” He smiled, liking the way she referred to her apartment as his home too. “Your mom just doesn’t like me. That’s nothing new to me.”

“She does have a way of making her displeasure known. My dad’s not here to play ref. So we'll probably be fighting in no time. She'll storm off. We'll have the place to ourselves. She'll call and say sorry and then she'll fly back to New York."

"Don’t let her get in your head."

"I won't."

“Good. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”  
Grabbing his jeans, he changed quickly before kissing her once more heading downstairs and putting on his boots. Once he was out the door, Beck started the shower.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

"So where did he sleep?" Vera asked as her daughter cleaned up the dishes from lunch.

"Mama…"

"Well, I know he didn't sleep on the couch. That thing is hardly comfortable. Plus none of his stuff is out here."

"Juice is organized to a fault,” Beck sighed, sitting back down and taking a drink from her tea. “And it doesn’t matter where he slept."

"It certainly does. Especially if he's not using a condom."

She choked. “Jesus Christ, Mother.”

“Don’t you take the Lord’s name in that tone, Rebekah. All I’m saying is that unless he plans to marry you - which a boy like Juan Carlos doesn’t - you should at least make sure you don’t end up pregnant. Use a condom.”

She rolled her eyes, not even admitting to the fact that the two in fact hadn’t used a condom. “Going against the Catechism now, Mama?”

“I’m not ignorant enough to think you two aren’t having sex. Just like I’m smart enough to know that he’s been staying here for a while. It hurts that you never mentioned it to me.”

“Did you ever stop to think that I didn’t say anything because I knew you wouldn’t have anything nice to say.”

“I haven’t said anything negative.”

“Yet.”

“Must we argue?” Vera sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Is he making you happy at least.”

“Yes, Mama. He is.”

“Well, he already has Christopher beat, I guess. I never liked that son of a bitch. Pardon my french.”

“You said you had something you wanted to tell me,” Beck reminded her, pulling her legs up into the chair.

“Yes.”

“Well?” she urged when her mother didn’t continue. It kind of made her nervous because her mother was never afraid to speak her mind on anything.

“I’ve left your father.”

“Very funny. What did you really want to talk about?”

“Don’t be difficult, Rebekah. I’m being serious.”

Slamming her mug onto the table, Beck straightened her back. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I just said I’m being serious.”

“Why?”

“Why doesn’t matter. All you need to know is that I’ve left him and I’m moving into a condo in the city.”

It had been her father who had insisted they stay in Queens. Her mother had wanted to move somewhere in the fancier spectrum. He’d grown up there and had insisted on raising his daughter there as well. And she was grateful for it. She’d loved the friends she’d made there, the environment. It was just different. 

“Where? Midtown?”

Her mother shook her head. “Here in Chicago. I wanted to be closer to you.”

Beck hoped she didn’t blanch as visibly as she thought she did. Chicago had, in a way, been her haven - a hideaway from her parents. It’s not that she didn’ love them. She did. Her mother just had a way of making her feel so small after an hour or so. And her father, despite his best intentions, had been mostly absent. Needless to say, he’d chosen business dinners over a couple of her birthdays.

“Chicago?” she echoed.

“Who knows? Now that I’m closer maybe you and the delinquent can give me some grandchildren.”

“Oh, so now you want him to get me pregnant?”

“I want you to be happy,” Vera insisted. “I know it’s hard to believe as often as we argue, but I truly just do want you to have the life you want. If that life includes Juan Carlos, then I will accept that.”

“I want you to support it, Mama.” She hated how her voice trembled. “Don’t just accept it. He’s not the same boy you see him as. He’s a good man.”

“You’re serious about him.”

It wasn’t a question. Rebekah didn’t know where they were headed. All she knew was that he was here for now. She hoped he would be here to stay. There was no telling how they were going to make things work in the long run. But she’d be damned if they didn’t give it a shot.

“Give him a chance. For me.”  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

Juice found himself walking back from the library sooner than he had thought. He’d traveled around for a little bit, walking into random shops Once the snow had started to fall, he decided it might be a good idea to start heading back to the apartment. But first, he was making one more stop: Giana’s.

With a stack of job applications in hand, he had begun making his way to the bakery. He was almost there when he saw them. It had just been out of the corner of his eye at first, but when he heard the grunts, he couldn’t help but turn his head.

“Hey!” he shouted, rushing toward them.

The old man was huddled on the ground of the alleyway, his hands protecting his head as the man above him kicked him in the stomach. Without thinking, he tossed his papers and lunged toward the attacker, tackling him to the ground.

He got the ball on him for a moment, only to be kicked off of him. Standing again, he pulled his gun.

“Gimme a reason, asshole.”

“Shit!” Taking off in the other direction, the mugger disappeared into the distance.

“Bitch,” Juice muttered, holstering his piece. Turning his attention to the black man on the ground he offered out a hand. “You good man? You need an ambulance?”

“I don’t need no damn ambulance. They’ll just charge me out the ass for the ride. Thank you though. Carpal tunnel makes it a little hard to fight back sometimes.”

“Don’t mention it.” Looking around at the ground Juice grimaced. “Shit.” 

Every last damn application he’d managed to snag was now nestled in dirty snow. So much for his productive evening. Squatting down he started to gather the packets.

“You looking for a job?” the older man asked, helping Juice pick up his now-soaked applications.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah.” Taking the papers from him, he was disappointed to find most of them blurred and falling apart. 

“Yeah, I just moved here. Trying to get my shit together.”

“I got a job for ya.”

“No offense but, uh… You’re not my type.”

The old man cackled. “Funny. But you ain’t mine either. Too pretty. I operate a local nonprofit. Help get kids off the streets. Help them get into school. College if they want. All that shit. We can always use more hands.”

“You want me around kids? You don’t even know me.”

“You some kind of pedophile or somethin’?”

“Fuck no!”

“Then that’s settled. We do have a background check and all that because we are around teenagers for the most part. I’m not going to go ahead and assume you have a record, but you should probably tell me now if you do.”

“I do.” juice wasn’t going to lie to the person trying to do him a solid.

“That tattoo,” he started, gesturing to the reaper on his arm. “That from your crew?”

Pulling down his sleeve, Juice shook his head. “Not anymore. I’m gonna get it covered up.” That was the plan anyway. It hurt too damn much to look at the thing sometimes. All it did was remind him of the family he had hurt.

“Good. As long as it stays that way and you’re not on anything, there shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“You could’ve kept walking. You didn’t have to help me. You don’t even know me. But you did it because it was the right thing to do. Plus, It’d be a little hypocritical of me not to help you given my line of work. Everyone deserves a chance?”

“Even that guy?” Juice huffed, pointing in the direction to which the assailant had run.

“No. fuck that guy.”

He chuckled, sticking out a hand. “I’m Jui- Juan Carlos.”

“Tyrell.”

“Which way you headed? I mean I’d call someone for you, but I don’t have a phone.”

“I’ll be alright. Here.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled a card from his wallet. Stop by Monday around eleven at this address. There’s some paperwork to fill out.”

“Thank you,” the Puerto Rican beamed. “I mean it, man. Seriously.”

__________________________________________________________________________________________

“Lucy! I’m home!”

“Hey,” Beck whispered, rushing to him. She smiled when he handed her the travel mug. “You got me hot cocoa?

“And I’ve got good news. How’d the sit down with your mom go?”

“Well, it was definitely interesting. Enlightening even.”

“Really? Is the dragon gone yet?"

“She’s still here,” Vera said, arms crossed as she took a step down the stairs.

He reddened, looking to Beck for an explanation. When the woman merely shrugged he tried not to glare. “Sorry Mrs. Payne. Didn’t know you were there. Nothing personal. You just don’t like me very much.”

“Anyway!” Beck squirmed. “What’s the good news?”

“I’ve got a job interview on Monday.”

“A job interview.” She raised a brow. They’d never discussed him getting a job. If she was being truthful, she kind of figured he would just stay with her. And she was fine with that.

“I mean I think I already have the job, to be honest. I don’t want to get my hopes up too much though.”

“You sure that’s what you want to do?”

“Yeah. I need to do something. I mean as much as I love watching you work, I need to pull my own weight ya know? I didn’t bring much with me when I came here and I’ve only got so much cash stashed away. Hey,” he said, tilting her chin toward him when she pouted. “I’m not trying to get space from you ‘kay? You’ve been taking care of me. I want to take care of you. Plus I wouldn’t feel like so much of a freeloader.”

“I appreciate the fact that you’re not willing to live off my daughter, Juan Carlos,” Very smiled.

He raised a brow in confusion before looking to Beck again. “Why is she being nice to me?”

“Forget about that right now,” the woman shook her head. “What would you be doing at this job?”

“Non-profit work.”

“That’s wonderful,” Vera praised.

Juice took a step back when she came toward him. “No offense but you’re kind of freaking me out.”

“I’m just trying to be supportive. I promised Rebekah I would try.”

Beck crossed her arms. “Layin’ it on a little thick, aren’t you Mother?”

“Fine, fine,” the older woman wafted her hands. “I just came down to say goodnight. And thank you for letting me take the bed. Juan Carlos,” she added, looking back to the man. “I laid you out some sleep clothes. There on the bathroom counter. Goodnight.”

Kissing both of their cheeks, Vera climbed the stairs, making her way into the bedroom and disappearing from their sights.

“You’re mom touched my underwear?”

“She’s trying.”

“OK, what the fuck? What did I miss?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! The plan is to update these chapters regularly. I had the first four typed up within a week, so hopefully, I can keep the momentum. Thank you so much for reading so far! Let me know what you think.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juice and Vera spend some quality time together. Fluff in the beginning. You've been warned.  
> TW: Discussion and slight depiction of anorexia and disordered eating. Mental health discussion.

“Behave,” Beck warned, pressing a hand against the biker’s chest to push him away from her. “My mother is right upstairs.”

They’d been watching a movie on the makeshift pallet they’d set up on the living room floor. But all of that had stopped about ten minutes ago when he’d started kissing her. He was a very good kisser. She tried not to think too much about it, but he was better than she remembered.

“Never stopped me before,” Juice mumbled into her neck with a smirk, his hand going for her waist. 

She pushed him away again, managing to put a little space between them. “And you wonder why my parents stopped letting you spend the night.”

“Oh, I never wondered about that. I was trying to get into your pants. It was a smart move on their part.”

“Then you know exactly why there will be no funny business tonight.”

Juice’s face grew serious. “I’ve never considered sex with you to be funny.”

“You know what I mean, JC,” Beck rolled her eyes. “Besides, she’s only here for a couple of days until the movers get here with her stuff. You can go without sex until then.”

“Yeah, but that was before I had you,” he pouted. “I might actually starve to death.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Shaking her head, she placed her hands in her lap. “We need to talk. About what happened.”

“You regret it,” he said.

A panicked sadness crawled over his face and her heart broke for him. Reaching up again, she placed her hand against his cheek.

“I don’t regret anything,” she promised. “I just meant… I need to know where we are on this. Where do we stand on ‘us’?”

His shoulders slumped in relief. “Oh. Fine. But we’re spooning while we talk. And I get to be the big spoon.”

She blushed, unsure as to why she was acting shy now. Clearing her throat, Beck leaned back onto the floor and tried to get comfortable on the pile of blankets. Once Juice was situated behind her, his arm coming to rest over her waist and his hand resting on her stomach, she didn’t know how to begin.

“I didn’t know bikers had an affinity for cuddling,” she teased, breaking the tension.

“I can still be a badass and like my snuggles,” Juice insisted, pulling her closer. He rested his face in the crook of her neck and slid a leg between hers before changing the topic. “I want to be with you, Beck.”

“But,” she pressed, sensing there was one. 

“But I want you to know that I can’t honestly say I’m one-hundred percent mentally. It’s gonna take time before I am - if I ever can be. I… I just don’t want you to be disappointed because I don’t have all my ducks in a row.”

“I don’t expect you to be perfect, Juan Carlos.” Grabbing his hand, she brought his palm up to face her, tracing the lines on it before tangling her fingers with his. “I’m not even a hundred. I don’t think there’s a single soul who is.”

“I know, but -”

“No buts,” she cut him off, ignoring the small voice in her haid that told her she sounded like her mother. Rolling over, she looked up to face him. “Do you remember what you said to me when I went back to rehab the last time?”

He sat up, leaning on his elbow, taken aback by her sudden shift in direction. 

Juice could only look in her eyes as he tried to remember. It had been almost a year after they had broken up. He’d watched her slowly deteriorate over time and didn’t even notice until it was too late. They’d been together, ditching school when she’d passed out. He’d barely caught her before she hit the ground.

She’d had issues with her eating before, but this time it had been much worse. She’d been in the hospital that time, tubes hooked into her body as they force-fed her. She’d always been small because she was short, but she’d looked so damn breakable then. 

He’d hated himself for it. Hated himself for not knowing - for not catching on to what she was doing when he was the person who was supposed to know him the most. The hollowed cheeks, the way her eyes had just taken up half of her face. She’d always been cold before, so he hadn’t noticed when her skin had gotten impossibly colder. It was one of the big reasons he’d invited himself along when she’d decided to move to Chicago. 

She didn’t look that way now, but the image still haunted him from time to time. Especially after he had left her and went to California. All he could picture was her in that damn hospital bed.

“I can’t remember,” he admitted.

“You told me it didn’t matter if I ate a lot or a little, so long as I kept it down and didn’t use any tricks.”

“Okay…”

“So it doesn’t matter that you’re not perfect JC. If you have a bad day - a bad week - that’s normal. It just matters that you try. One day at a time. You were there for me when I could barely eat anything. So I’ll be damned if I’m just going to throw you out to sea and hope you don’t drown. I’ll be right here, whether you’re swimming or floating. Or if you really feel like drowning.”

She reached up to wipe the tears that had started to fall from his eyes. “Together,” she emphasized.

He took her hand, holding it in his. “Did you ever… After I left, did you ever fall off the wagon?”

“I still struggle sometimes,” she nodded, looking at their intertwined fingers. “It got really bad after I found out about Chris and Lori. I fainted at work.”

“You fainted?” His brows rose at the thought of her keeping that from him. “You should’ve called me.”

“I was going to. But we hadn’t talked since you left. You were still listed as my emergency contact, but your number had been disconnected. Dad was secondary, so he and Mama came rushing down. That’s why she hates Chris so much. You, she hates less because you were the only one who could get me to acknowledge something was wrong. You took care of me.”

“She still thinks I’m trouble though,” he pointed out.

“I’m her only child. She just doesn’t want anything bad to happen to me. She’s got a weird way of showing it, but…”

“I will never let anything happen to you. I swear.”

“Just like I will never let anything happen to you. We’re a team, JC. Always will be.”

He nodded, contemplating her words for a moment. He stayed silent, his eyes far off. She knew he was weighing something in his mind, she just couldn't say what it was. It seemed like hours before he spoke again.

“This is going to sound really juvenile,” he chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Rebekah?”

Her shoulder stiffened. He only used her full name when it was serious. “What is it?”

“Would you be my girlfriend? You know… Again?”

She laughed, immediately relaxing. “You’re right. That was juvenile. And adorable.”

“Very funny,” he sighed, turning over and rolling away from her.

“I’m flattered,” she teased, spooning him and kissing the back of his shoulder. “I would be honored to be your girlfriend Juan Carlos.”

“You’re the one who was after my virtue ten minutes ago.”  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

Vera stood, watching them with a small smile gracing her lips as she looked at Juice. There was a protectiveness in the way the man was holding his daughter. But there was also desperation. It was as if he was afraid she would disappear while he slept. His arms came around her to envelop her as close to him as possible. In a way, it reminded her of when they were children. 

Even then, they belonged to each other. Juan Carlos had come from a family with three children. Being the middle child, he was easily forgotten, always having to share or get the hand me downs. But Beck was the only thing that had been just his. And Vera knew this. She had talked to his parents about it when the duo had been ten or so, which had ended in an argument. 

Still, she had looked after the boy as best as she could. Until he had been caught trying to defile her daughter, of course. She never said they couldn’t be friends of course. But she wasn’t about to be a grandmother that early either.

But now, looking at the two, she wondered if she could have stopped so much sadness from creeping into their lives if she had just let them be together all those years ago. Her daughter’s sickness. His lack of a sense of belonging that caused him to run away from her daughter on a quest to find himself. Clearly, they’d found their way to each other regardless. Still… She couldn’t help but wonder.

“Wake up,” the mother sang, taking a seat on the couch and composing her features.

When neither of the pair stirred, she uncapped her water bottle, letting the clear liquid trickle out of the mouth of the bottle and onto the man’s face.

He jumped up swinging, ready to fight. He’d nearly missed her leg before opening his eyes and recognition coming over his features.

“Why are you moving so much?” Beck growled, sitting up herself and rubbing her eyes.

“Breakfast is ready,” Vera smiled, standing up again and heading into the kitchen. 

“Psycho,” Juice muttered under his breath.

“What?” Beck yawned as she stood.

“Your mother just tried to waterboard me. That’s what.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s too early for you two to be arguing. Anyway, she probably heard you trying to get some last night. She’s just protecting my virtue.”

“I’m pretty sure your virtue went out the window when you went to prom with Tyler,” he whispered, standing up and kissing her hair.

“Still bitter it wasn’t you?” she smirked.

“Hey, it wasn’t for a lack of trying on my part.”

“Oh, I am very aware.” She fought the urge to jump when she felt him pinch her ass.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he shrugged at her glare.

Sitting at the dining table, they were greeted with the smell of guacamole. 

“You didn’t have to make breakfast Mama,” Beck insisted as Vera sat plates in front of them before taking her own seat. “You should relax.”

“I don’t mind. Besides, I used that quiche recipe you sent me. Let me know how it tastes.” She looked to Juice, who was already beginning to dig into his own serving. “Grace, Juan Carlos. Did you lose all of your home training in the last few years?”

“No, Ma’am,” he sighed, putting his fork down.

“Good. Go ahead.”

Shoulders heaving, Juice closed his eyes nonetheless. “Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” the women echoed as they all crossed themselves.

Beck looked over at him with a smirk. She thought it was a little funny he was still afraid - at least a slightly so - of his mother. Picking up her own fork, she watched as her mother and boyfriend began to talk about his new job opportunity. It was kind of nostalgic for her to see. Before the close incident, the Puerto Rican had eaten breakfast with them after almost every Mass. They used to get along then. Now, they were being mostly civil with subtle digs (mainly from Vera).

“So what are you two going to do today?” her mother asked, taking a bite of her breakfast. “Any Sunday plans?”

“I do have to run a few errands if you don’t mind,” Beck mused. “Gotta stop by the store and grab a couple things; shampoo, batteries for the fire alarm. You know, stupid stuff.”

“Need help with any of that?”

“I shouldn’t be gone too long,” she shook her head. “A couple of hours tops.”

“No,” Vera shook her head. “No, I don’t like the thought of you out and about on the streets alone. Take the boy with you.”

“You seem to forget when Beck here clocked me,” Juice reminded, his mouth full.

“You scared the shit out of me JC.”

Vera ignored the profanity that fell from her daughter's tongue in favor of shrugging at the memory. “You did have it coming, Juan Carlos. Rebekah has always frightened easily.”

“I was concussed,” he pointed out. “One hell of a left hook.”

“I would hardly say that.” Vera looked to her daughter whose eyes were glittering with tears as she smiled at the two of them. “Honey, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Beck nodded with a sniffle. Reaching her hand over her mother’s she gave the older woman’s fingers a gentle squeeze. “It’s just really nice being with both of you again. And I’ll be fine. I’m not walking. I’m gonna see if I can catch the train so I can be back before it snows. I’ll check in.”

Vera smiled, looking to Juice. “What about you? Any plans?”

“Actually, I do need to head into town. Get a shirt for my interview. I don’t think I own anything with a collar.” He cleared his throat, putting his fork on his now-empty plate. A pained expression crossed his face before he took a deep breath and looked at his girlfriend’s mother. “Vera, would you please go with me?”

The older woman almost choked on her food. “You want me to go with you?”

“Yeah. I could use the fashion advice. “  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

“This one would look lovely on you,” Vera beamed, holding up a royal blue button-down. “It goes so well with your skin tone. Oh! Maybe a nice green. Or black. Black is always safe.”

Juice was regretting his decision already. Vera had, quite literally, dragged him through the men’s department of some uppity store he’d never heard of. He’d had to talk her out of heading to Giorgio Armani, informing her that he would get his ass beat if he walked around in something that expensive. He regretted his decision, even more, when she shoved a pile of shirts in his arms.

If it were up to him, he would have just grabbed the first shirt that looked like it would fit him and been done with it. But the woman was so intent on finding something that would make him appear confident, commanding, and trustworthy (her words, not his). 

According to Vera, clothes could speak. Apparently, his hoodie said thief, because he was positive the security guard from the door hadn’t taken his eyes off of them since he eyed Juice at the door. All Juice wanted to do was get home and maybe take a nap with Beck. 

He told himself he should have just ventured out on his own. But part of him didn’t like the thought of Vera staying in the apartment by herself. He knew how tough it was moving to a new place and not knowing a single soul. He imagined it was only worse if you had just ended a thirty-plus year marriage in the process. So, yes, a small part of him had invited her out of pity. However, a more selfish part of him had done so in hopes of hearing her opinion on something.

“Beck’s birthday is in a couple of weeks,” he voiced, hoping he sounded casual as she shoved him into a dressing room.

“I know. I got her the most darling dress. It’s absolutely to die for.”

Juice tried not to grimace as he hung the findings on the built-in rack and took his hoodie and shirt off, the skulls on his chest staring back at him as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He found himself trying not to laugh when he heard Vera mention that the dress had puffed sleeves. 

Beck hated puffed sleeves. In fact, if he remembered correctly, she’d cut the sleeves off of her prom dress much to her mother’s chagrin. There had been a huge fight about it.

He didn’t remind her of that, choosing his battles when it came to the woman. Instead, he sifted through the shirts, picking up the black one.

“I was thinking about taking her out on a date,” he suggested. “Maybe ice skating if the rink is open. But I want to get her something too.”

Suddenly the door was yanked open and Vera’s head popped in, a terrifying glint in her eyes. “A ring?”

“Jesus!” Juice shrieked, clutching the fabric to his chest to save his modesty. “No. It’s too soon for that. Isn’t it? I mean we just started dating last night.”

“But you’ve been living here for almost two months now? What were you just defiling my daughter until I showed up?”

“No. No. Nothing happened until yesterday, I swear. It’s just… It’s complicated. I needed a place to stay. Beck let me in.”

“Yes, well, my daughter has always been fond of you.” Closing the door again, she allowed him his privacy again. She let out a sigh. “Assaulting that nun should have been warning enough that you were going to be in her life one way or the other. So what did you have in mind?"

“I don’t know,” the man admitted, pulling the shirt on and buttoning it slowly. “I want to do something meaningful. But not something so intense that she feels rushed.”

“Well, if you’re looking for advice, you came to the wrong person. My daughter has never been the materialistic type, unlike me. Which there’s nothing wrong with either, it just makes shopping for her a nightmare.”  
He stepped out of the changing room. “So no suggestions.”

“A tie,” Vera nodded seriously as she smoothed out his collar. “Black or a dark grey. Purple if you’re bold enough.” Raising her hands, there was already an assortment clutched between her fingers.

“I meant for her gift.”

She rolled her eyes, cluing him in on where Beck got that particular trait from. “I gave all the pointers I can give. I love my daughter. Truly I do. With all my heart. But I can admit that I don’t know her that well, Juan Carlos. She never shared much of herself with me. She clung so tightly to her father.”

“Is that why you won’t tell her the reason you left Malachai?” Juice asked, hesitant as she held three ties against his shirt.

He didn’t expect her to dignify the question with a response. He honestly hadn’t even been meaning to ask it. It had just kind of slipped. But Vera seemed to be working toward a record when it came to surprising him. 

“He was always her hero. Even when he failed her. I don’t want to taint what few childhood memories she has of him. It’s not fair.” Her eyes drifted away for a moment, the act so quick it was almost unnoticeable. Almost. “Why don’t we just get all of them? My treat.”

His eyes widened. “What? Vera, are you crazy? I can’t ask you to do that.” Fumbling around with the tag. “Jesus Christ. One-fifty for a shirt?”

“I know. Just… Think of them as Christmas and birthday presents. That way you can use your money to take care of my daughter. Or other things. Like maybe a couch. Or an engagement ring when the time is right.”  
Before he could argue walked into the room, picking up the rest of the shirts and leading him to the register.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I don't want to come out and say that there will be multiple chapters a week. I work full-time and that's not always feasible. My goal, however, is one chapter a week. Let me know what you think!  
> \- Ana


End file.
